


The Legend of the Listener.

by AthenaFangGranger26



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 12:43:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2508302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AthenaFangGranger26/pseuds/AthenaFangGranger26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bard tells the tale of the Listener, the Dark Brotherhood's lead assassin. But tales are just that, right?  They're just fiction, pure fiction. Of course, they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Legend of the Listener.

"They speak of one who rides in all black. They say it's a woman, though no one can really tell. She rides a steed black as night with eyes as crimson as the blood she spills. She travels the land of Skyrim followed closely by a loyal jester whose blade slices through the night.  
They say that those who cross the woman meet her blade. They say her blade can quite literally suck the life out of her victims. Those who meet her blade do not live to tell the tale. Only those who witness her attacks--and those are few--live to spread the legend of T'aan, the Listener."  
The old bard goes back to his mead, his story told. Most of the warriors in the inn snort and go back to their drinks. Legends ran through Skyrim like rivers; legends like the Dragonborn existed and not once had anyone heard the call of the Greybeards even after the dragon attacked Helgen. The Listener was just another story.

Miles away, a small camp is set up alongside the road. A fire is roaring in the center, with two bedrolls unfurled beneath makeshift fur tents. One bedroll is occupied while the other lays bare. A few feet away from camp, a horse is tied to the base of a nearby tree. It is hardly visible due to it dark coat. A woman sits facing the fire.

I stoked the flames once more, doing anything to keep myself awake. Today had been rough. With three contracts from Nazir on my belt, I had less than a week to get from Dawnstar to Whiterun, for a supplies run, to Markarth, and back all the way to Dawnstar. I hadn't been off a horse's back in days.  
A snore off to my left, beyond my sight due to my blind eye, caught my attention. Sithis, even when he was asleep Cicero was annoying. I resisted either killing him or tossing a rock at his prone form in the tent. I was leaning toward the latter; only because he felt he owed me a debt.  
I spared his life, even we I should have killed him mercilessly. I had pitied his strange choice of armor and seemingly horrible fit of madness he denied he had. I was merciful when my profession outright stated I was not. I killed a woman on her wedding day for Sithis' sake. I was not known for being friendly or nice or even amicable. And yet I chose to allow this jester-wannabe to travel with me.  
I try to tell myself it's only because his blade is quick.  
I fear I may be forming a kind of friendship, or at least companionship, with the erratic man.  
I shook my head to dislodge the unwelcome ponderings. Checking the moons' height, I realized it was high time to switch watches. Slowly, I got to my feet. I winced at the creak in my protesting bones; the vigor of my profession would surely cause me to retire much sooner than I'd like.  
I strolled over to the occupied tent and gave the sleeping jester a rough kick in the foot. He slowly stirred and turned his eyes to me in question.  
"Your watch." I said simply.  
Cicero yawned, but pulled himself out of the tent. "Humble Cicero lives to serve." He waved a small goodnight to me and took my old place by the fire.  
I shook my head slightly, then knocked my hood back and took my new place inside the tent. I was so exhausted that I was asleep in a matter of minutes. For this I was glad, as I had another two or three days on horseback ahead of me, not counting any bandit we ran into or wildlife that got in our way.   
Oh, well; so was the life of the Listener.


End file.
